


Begin To Wonder Why (between the lines of fear and blame)

by hishn_greywalker



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Season/Series 01, Season/Series 02, family_secret, yellow eyed demon is a bitch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-06-06
Updated: 2007-06-06
Packaged: 2018-10-20 19:33:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10669359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hishn_greywalker/pseuds/hishn_greywalker
Summary: Dean's first thought wasoh fuck, Dad can't find out about this.





	Begin To Wonder Why (between the lines of fear and blame)

**Author's Note:**

> title from The Fray's "how to save a life". I'm not sure I'm comfortable with how I portray John here. he loves his sons, I know, but sometimes I think because he loves them he does some horrible things and tells them he's doing it for them. beware of run on sentences and tense changes. [](http://waterofthemoon.livejournal.com/profile)[waterofthemoon](http://waterofthemoon.livejournal.com/) tried her damnedest to get them all in the right way for me. also, damnedest is a word according to microsoft. who knew? for [](http://family-secret.livejournal.com/profile)[family_secret](http://family-secret.livejournal.com/).  
> Prompts: #78 (In "Salvation" John yells at Dean for not telling him about Sam's visions and Dean's excuse was that "getting you on the phone, I got a better chance of winning the lottery". However, both Sam and Dean left John voicemails about other important developments (Dean dying, something being in their old house). So, why did they decide to keep the visions to themselves for so long?) and #100 ([this picture](http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v131/KirstenK/631642_csp_picnic_mist.jpg)).

When Sam first told Dean about the nightmares, Dean could only stare at him, ask him to slow down, tell him one more time. Even as he was trying to deny it, he could see the reality of it in Sam’s eyes. Even more telling than that was the way that Sam tried not to tell him at all, the look he gave Dean trying to convince him to go back to Lawrence without all the details.

When Sam's shoulders finally slumped and he admitted to the visions— _visions!_ —Dean's first thought was _oh fuck, Dad can't find out about this_. Dean felt guilty right away, felt it deep in his stomach, curling up and distracting him. It didn't make it any less true, and didn't make him any less determined to make sure their dad didn't find out until they had no other options.

As Dean called his dad from Lawrence, he wondered what he would tell him if he picked up or called him back. They'd come to Lawrence because of one of Sam's visions—there wasn't a paper trail, or research, or any legitimate reason they should have been anywhere near Lawrence. Dean knew that if he did talk to their dad, he'd have to have an excuse, but at the time, the only thing he felt was the fear that their father might find out about Sam.

He avoided the topic with Sam, and for once in his life, Sam didn't push it. Dean didn't know whether Sam could see something in the way Dean looked at him when he told him to drop the subject or if he really knew more than Dean or their dad had thought for the last eight years. Dean hoped it was the first one—Sam had enough reasons of his own to fight their dad, and he didn't need any more from Dean.

When they finally had to explain the visions to their dad, Dean didn't know whether to laugh or cry at the timing. On one hand, they needed every edge they could get on this son of a bitch they were fighting, and this late in the game, their dad was probably willing to take every advantage he could get. On the other hand, being that close to something supernatural, being on edge and ready to kill anything that shifted wrong, could be just what their father needed to do the same thing to Sam as he had done to Dean.

Except this time, this time it wasn't something he could beat or threaten or scare out of his son. This time, it was something that was there regardless. Standing there with a coffee pot in hand, backing Sam up and shooting down their father, Dean knew their dad knew that too, and he felt the cold fingers of dread gripping his stomach, making the coffee roil and the thought of more almost send him to the bathroom.

With Sam between them, Dean locked eyes with his father, the defiance that was in every bit of his stance making his position clearly known. The sorrow in his father's eyes made Dean want to cringe, but he didn't, not like he had all those years ago.

Dean knew Sam thought Cassie had been Dean's first and only love. Dean hadn't corrected him—not from fear that Sam would react the same way that their dad had, because Dean knew Sam wouldn't have—but because he'd spent the last eight years making sure to bury that side of himself so deep that he could even manage a night out after a hunt with their father in the same bar without cringing.

But Cassie hadn't been his first love, and she hadn't been the one he would have picked out of those that had been there. Dean sometimes wondered if he remembered everything a little bit better than it had been on those sleepless nights or fuzzy mornings, but he figured it didn't really matter. He wasn't ever going to get it back, and he wasn't ever going to have something close to it, not while there was any chance that their father could find out.

Dean still wasn't sure how their dad had figured out about James, why he didn't just see two best friends like the rest of the world. He could remember that last morning more clearly than he could remember most things from then. It had only been a couple of weeks before they graduated, and it was foggy in the mornings before school. Everything else was green, the park where they always met shiny with dew, and sometimes Dean swore to James that every little bit of moisture caused the park to be lit up with a million tiny rainbows.

James had laughed when Dean had said that. He had called him a dork and a romantic poet, and Dean had blushed and stammered until James had reached up and pulled him down for a kiss, telling him it was okay, just as long as Dean was _his_ romantic poet.

Dean had smiled then, kissed James back, and wrapped his arms around the shorter boy. They only ever had the few minutes in the morning before they went to school and the nights they spent at James' house when John was in town and Dean didn't have to look after Sammy. James came over on nights John was gone, but they never acted as anything more than best friends, the single entity that their school referred to jokingly as James Dean instead of James and Dean. They didn't hide it because Dean didn't trust Sam, but instead because somewhere buried inside him, there was the fear that his father would find out.

Dean had thought about his father finding out a time or two, but it had been a removed fear, something he hadn't really gone over in too much detail in his mind. But what he had thought would happen hadn't been what had happened that morning. He'd figured on a little yelling, a bit of disappointment, but in the end his dad accepting him for who he was.

He hadn't expected the anger. Dean had thought he'd seen his father angry before, but whatever he had seen before then had paled in comparison to what his father was feeling now. Dean had expected that his father wouldn't like his choice, and he had expected some threats about it. But he hadn't expected the ultimatum of stop or get gone, and he hadn't expected his father to tell him, if he did get gone, he was to stay gone.

It was only once Dean had made sure James was safely gone that Dean dared to talk back. Their father had never once hit him or Sam, but they'd both seen what he could do when another hunter got him drunk, riled, or drunk and riled.

John had snarled, telling Dean it was wrong, it wasn't normal, and no son of his was going to be _that way_. Dean had scoffed at that. What was normal when you'd grown up in the back of a car, gone to so many different schools you didn't remember all the names, and had lived in more states than most of your classmates would ever go to?

John had hit Dean then, the first and only time, a backhand across the face that had left Dean reeling. Dean had given in then, had nodded jerkily when John had told him he wouldn't be seeing James again and that he better not catch him with any other guys.

Four years later, Dean still didn't know how to stand up to their father. He stood to the side, warned off from standing up for his little brother with a glare from their father. He'd almost done it anyway when he saw the hurt look on Sam's face, but instead he didn't. He'd always know that Sam was stronger than him, always been proud of it, but he didn't know how much stronger than him Sam was until he watched his little brother raise his chin in defiance after John told him if he was gonna go, he better stay gone, and then hit _him_ , then spit out a final parting shot as he picked up his stuff and left the both of them standing in a small Midwest town.

Four years later, Dean wasn't willing to lose his little brother again, not after finally getting him back. He stood behind Sam, defiant again for the first time since he'd been eighteen. When his dad looked at him and asked him when he was going to call him about it, he scoffed in disbelief. "Call you? Are you kidding me? Dad, I called you from Lawrence, all right? Sam called you when I was dying. I mean, getting you on the phone—I got a better chance of winning the lottery."

His dad frowned at him, but he could see that his father understood exactly what he was telling him. "You're right," he told them slowly. "Although I'm not real crazy about this new tone of yours, you're right. I'm sorry."

But Dean knew he wasn't sorry for everything, could see the same look of betrayal in his dad's eyes that had been there all those years ago. Sam spoke up then, but it didn't matter. Dean and their father held their stare a moment longer. Dean didn't know what just happened, but something had. For the moment, he and Sam were safe—they'd won the confrontation for the moment, but Dean didn't know how long it would last, how long it would be before their dad wanted his brand of normal back. Dean couldn't help but shiver in fear of the next confrontation, hoping it came a long way down the road.


End file.
